Her
by BenAddict Holmes
Summary: Her scream pierces through him and all he wants to do is to seriously injure the poor excuse for a human being that is doing this to her.


**A/n : Wow, I'm writing a new fic after what seems like ages. Anyway, this is for MacNair, my dear friend. Happy Birthday! I'm sorry I'm two days too late but I hope you like this!**

**Please Read and Review!**

Her scream pierced through the air and he breathed in sharply, trying to ignore her cries that were cutting through him, stabbing him, causing him physical pain, if that were even possible. He almost contemplated running to her rescue but he knows it's pointless. He would never be able to do something so brave and so stupid. The sorting hat had known, it hadn't placed him in Gryffindor like her. She, who had dropped out of school only to fight for what was right, to stand up for what she believed in. And look where it got her. Being tortured in this despicable place he once called home by the despicable woman he was forced to call aunt.

_He remembers seeing her on the first of September at the King Cross station. She's clutching her trolley nervously and drinking in the scene with absolute wonder in her bright brown eyes. One look at her and he knows she's a Muggleborn. The awe and disbelief on her parents' face only serves as further proof. He turns around in disgust. The first person from his year he has laid his eyes on and she's a Muggleborn. Oh well, at least he wouldn't be in the same house as her. He is destined to be in Slytherin and there is no way she would follow him there, given her blood status. He grabs his trolley and wheels it away to the opposite end of the train, away from the girl with the bright brown eyes._

He could hear the hammering on the dungeon door, most likely coming from Weasley. He always thought Weasley was a bit of an idiot, but she deserved someone like him. Someone who wouldn't shirk away from helping her because he was trying to save his own skin. As the all too familiar wave of self loathing washed over him again, he tried to imagine what it would be like, had he accepted Dumbledore's offer, had he decided to switch sides, had he done what he really wanted to, for once, instead of trying to live up to an image of him that existed only in people's minds.

Sooner or later we must all choose between what is right and what is easy, he thought, remembering Dumbledore's words. He had never known until now how true they were. But the choice had been made for him by people who couldn't care less about him, even before he knew there was a choice.

_"__At least no one on the Gryffindor team had to buy their way in. They got in on pure talent."_

_And he had been furious, not because she had insulted him indirectly, but because she was right. Before he knew it, he was spewing insults of his own at her, hoping to reduce her to tears, the infuriating girl who was way too clever for a Muggleborn. But judging by her bewildered face, she hadn't understood the graveness of the insult at all, rendering his effort useless once more._

_He had spoken about her death to Crabbe and Goyle with relish but when she did get petrified, the sight of her lifeless body filled him with drear. _

_He supposed he should have known that he didn't hate her as much as he ought to, or even as much as people thought he did. It took him three years, a punch that bloody hurt, a fiasco at the Quidditch World Cup and a periwinkle blue dress for him to realize that he didn't hate her at all. In fact, he liked her quite a lot and the thought scared him much more than he thought was possible. So he resorted to what he did best, hid under his mask of the arrogant, muggle hating Slytherin. _

The sight of her sprawled on the floor with her eyes streaming with tears unleashed a monster within him, a monster he didn't know existed. Or maybe he did, but kept it caged unconsciously. The fury now broke free and all he wanted to do was to hurt, maim, seriously injure the poor excuse for a human being that was doing this to her. He wanted to hurt Bellatrix Lestrange as much as he could, not caring about how much he would get hurt in return.

This is how it feels to be a Gryffindor then, he thought. No wonder they ended up doing such brave things. The adrenaline in his blood was making his head pound and he lost all sense of reality when he heard the words that made his blood boil.

'I think we can dispose of the Mudblood'

'Don't call her that!' he roared but nobody heard him because at the same time Weasley and Potter burst out of the cellar and before he knew it, his wand was wrenched out from his hand. The scuffle that followed was too erratic for him to reach her hand and to take her away from this goddamned place with its goddamned people who cared no more about human life than their master.

And then the chandelier was falling and he watched in horror as it crushed her underneath. Another wave of fury rose inside him and he lunged towards Bellatrix Lestrange but was taken aback when he saw none other than Dobby, his old House elf, standing up to his old mistress proudly, and Draco nearly drowned in shame. He had so much to learn and all of it from the people he thought didn't matter.

The sight of Dobby standing up to the family who had oppressed him for years made him feel worthless and he sagged, reprimanding himself for being so cowardly.

But then his eyes met hers just before she vanished into an abyss of nothingness and the only thing he could do is stare and convey through his eyes what he was too afraid to say.

_Stay safe. I couldn't take it if something happened to you. We both made our choices the night He came back. You chose the right path, I chose the easy one. Both of us must face the consequences of the choices we made. Good bye, Hermione Granger, take care._

**A/n : Sadness. I know.**

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**Aditi xoxoxo**


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